


Rebel At Night

by doctormambo



Category: The Grinning Man - Philips & Teitler/Grose & Morris & Philips & Teitler/Grose
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-09 15:27:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14718716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctormambo/pseuds/doctormambo
Summary: When a series of events see Eliza and Gwynplaine Trelaw surviving their execution, the two of them try to find a new place in this confounding world. Both of them refuse to let the Trelaw Spirit die and so the only thing that makes sense to them is to carry on the rebellion. Setting up an underground system of caring and anarchy, the two of them are determined to keep hope alive.A super AU fanfic that was inspired by "The Cliff at Kingdom's End" by SunlightInWinter, so thank you for letting me run with this idea. This will include a Gwynplaine romance with an OC, so I'm sorry in advanced.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Cliffs at Kingdom’s End (or, What Might Have Been)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717072) by [SunlightInWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightInWinter/pseuds/SunlightInWinter). 



Gwynplaine rested his back against the wall, looking up at his other conspirators in the dead of night. His dark eyes reflected the small flame that was already starting to grow nicely and he couldn’t stop the playful smirk from coming onto his lips. Rebellion was in his blood and he was never going to let that die, giving a small nod to one of the other men and moving through the night like a ghost who never should have been there. They never felt that they were doing wrong, much like the tale of Robin Hood; they took from the rich to give to the poor. While the property they had set ablaze was probably not going to the poor, the fact it was an unoccupied space, now it was going to be burnt out, there was a chance homeless people could use it as a shelter before it was fully restored. The main reason for tonight’s action was the owner of this home was someone who was one of the King’s peers and an adamant supporter of keeping the poor as poor as possible, none of them getting any help from the people who had put them in this place.

The small band of men walked away from their handiwork, making their way towards a small hideout they had in case they needed to lay low for a few hours. The night was still, for the time being, and their footsteps echoed through the cobbled streets of London. He couldn’t help but cast his eyes up to the sky, watching the stars twinkle in the blackness, feeling the warmth that he was doing right by his father. It wasn’t something that he could explain, but the night always seemed to bring him a closeness to his father, as if it was during the night he was watching him and looking out for him. After taking a few turned through the streets, they all found themselves outside of the place they would meet, stepping inside once they were sure there were no other people to see them going inside.

Another group of rebels were already inside having returned from their adventures already, talking and congratulating each other and cheering as the new group came in. Gwynplaine was like a celebrity around these people and they all admired him, anyone within reach of him giving him a pat on the back for a job well done. They all seemed to be more than happy that this was what they were now doing and they could all take pride in making a true political statement that no one could really ignore any more. The room was mainly filled with working class people who had the most to say since they were all at the point now where they felt they had nothing much to lose. All of them had been pushed to the edge of reason by the ruling class and felt there was no other way for their cries to be heard.

The people who Gwynplaine gravitated to in the room for a quick word were the few that had been within his friend circle as they knew who he was. While he was a disgraced in the eyes of the Royal House of Clarence, there were others left over from the first rebellion who were never discovered who quickly joined the cause as soon as they had found news of this. Some of them had been sons of friends of his father; Lord Hazlett Trelaw, and some simply decided to join this new rebellion. These were the first people to join him and his mother on this new journey for justice and classed them as close friends, maybe even brothers. Although some of them may have teased him for his love of his mother, he didn’t care much for their thoughts on it and simply walked straight to her and embraced her tightly.

“Glad you’re back in one piece,” she whispered softly in his ear.  
“It wasn’t as guarded as you would have thought. We’re perfectly safe under the cover night.”  
“I know, but you know how I still worry, you’re always going to be my baby,” she ruffled his hair.  
“Mother,” he protested, straightening his hair. “I know you worry, but I’m an adult now, I know how to handle myself.”  
“You’re seventeen, not a child, not yet a man,” she said stern. “I just wish your father could see you now,” her voice softened.  
“Me as well, but there’s a chance if he was here, I wouldn’t be on this path.”  
“No, our situation would be completely different if he were here. We would be in hiding, probably by the sea…” she trailed off, deep in thought.  
“We can’t dwell on these thoughts much longer, we have to keep fighting his fight because he can’t,” he clasped her hands tightly.  
“You’re right, and we still have each other, that’s what’s important,” she smiled sadly.

Before another word could be spoken, he brought her into a tight hug to remind her that they were never going to lose each other and most importantly, that his father continued to live on through him. The two of them may have been surrounded by other people who were fighting the same cause as them, but they would never know the pain. They would never understand the feeling of watching your own father being hanged before your eyes for doing what he believed was right. The man he always believed was invincible and unable to ever do anything wrong had been murdered for standing up for people who couldn’t be heard. It was enough to break his heart for a thousand lifetimes and that’s why he fought. His pain fuelled him to keep going and to never give up, no matter the cost. Maybe he would end up in the same position as his father, but that didn’t worry him in the slightest, the only reason he had to tame himself was to keep his mother happy.

“Gwinny!” the jeer came from behind as someone clapped him on the back.  
“Harry!” he smiled. “How did it go over at the church?”  
“The whole place is basically covered, every inch of it,” he chuckled.  
“Nice work, but hopefully the finest is yet to come.”  
“We both know that each one will best one yet.”  
“I just hope that they start listening soon, or the last one will be the end of the country,” Gwynplaine was half joking, half serious.  
“Same time next week?” Harry asked, turning to leave.  
“We’re having a mid-week meeting, taking advantage of some of the momentum we have was the moment.”  
“Don’t worry, Gwinny, I’ll definitely be there,” he walked away after a firm handshake.

He waved the fellow rebel off into the night, pretty confident that none of them were going to be getting into much trouble tonight since there hadn’t been much activity outside from what he could hear. The upper class people who were here tended to need to get back to the world they lived in before people could draw suspicions towards them, none of them able to live their true lives. But at least they had lives, the people who were left behind when all the upper classes filed out to their rich houses lived here because they had nowhere else to go. They live in the safe house because their own houses had been taken away from them and their families. They were part of the Trelaw extended family now, becoming people they looked after when the other rebels weren’t here, whether it was just being a shoulder or helping them to stay nourished.

Eliza began handing out blankets and helping those get comfortable who were able to it themselves, an old lady who had very bad legs due to years standing and serving those above her was made comfortable for the night. Even now as he watched his mother caring for others, the image of the noose around her neck always played through his mind. The face of the clown at his glee as he was given the word to murder those he betrayed King Clarence would never be out of his mind’s eye. The kindness his mother showed in these moments gave him hope that the world wasn’t damned to cruelty. The compassion she expressed during her moment of desperate need always made his heart soar. His mother was his rock.

A small family sat around, trying to bring comfort to their mother, telling her that they would be okay because the Trelaw’s were good people bringing hope to them, but she seemed inconsolable. He couldn’t stop himself from interjecting, slowly sitting down with them and giving them a reassuring smile. He knew that he didn’t have all the answers and he couldn’t make their pain disappear in the moment, but he could show them compassion. All he wanted was to make them feel like they were people who mattered, that the world hadn’t forgotten about the struggles of the people in dire straits. With a comforting hand, he gently informed their mother that this was a battle, but it was one that he was determined to win. It was all he could offer in this moment and it seemed to bring her the comfort she needed to finally settle down. He got back on his feet, giving their son’s hair a small ruffle and then walking to find an empty spot for himself.

Everyone seemed ready for the night to come to a close and all the excitement had finally settled down from the events earlier. He shot his mother a small smile from across the room as she sat beside a few children of a man who had also been murdered fighting for the cause. Eliza Trelaw was a true saint in all of this mess and one day, once all of this violent uproar was behind him, he hoped that he could possibly be as kind hearted as she was. There was a corner of the room that was currently unoccupied and also had a good view of the door in case there was anything happening in the night. Grabbing himself a blanket, he moved to that corner and slid down the wall before getting himself as comfortable as you could against a stone wall. The blanket brought little warmth, but still kept him snug, running a hand through his hair before finally starting to drift off.


	2. Chapter 2

“What a disgrace this city is becoming,” the authoritarian voice boomed from the window.  
“Why do you say that, father?” his son questioned from the table.  
“The absolute disregard for us. These rebels set fire to Baron Loughton’s property last night, and not only that, but they have been covering churches in their posters, it’s a disgusting action because they are simply unhappy with their lives.”  
“Do you not believe they’re making a point, not just causing disruption for disruption sake, but trying to bring to our attention to completely unbalanced way this country lives,” a soft female voice said.  
“Hazel, if these people worked to better their lives, they could find a balance.”  
“You really believe that a poor boy on the streets could ever work up to live a life like ours?”  
“If he wanted it bad enough and worked hard enough, he could get there.”  
“Or if he just married the right person,” she grumbled under her breath.  
“Hazel!” a woman from behind barked. “Stop talking to your father in such a way and go and get ready,” she stared until the young woman finally left the table. “That daughter of ours is beginning to give me a headache,” she sighed, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder.  
“The sooner we get her married off, the better for all of us.”

Hazel could just hear what her parents had said about her and couldn’t stop herself from sighing in a huff as she made her way to her room. While she knew she had been blessed to grow up in a rich household, there was a burning part of her that was completely unhappy with the things that the rebels were pointing out. It wasn’t until the rebellion started that she had been awakened to these things and it seemed speaking her mind had started to get he into trouble, not just with her parents, but also with the people she was supposed to socialise with. Not that any of them took her seriously, they would simply wave their hand and remind her that she was a silly little girl with silly thoughts and she would outgrow this desire to speak for the unwashed masses. Of course they wouldn’t listen, no matter what, because they were content with their lives and would never care about those in need.

Things in London were getting worse and she wished that she could do more to help the people who needed it right now, but she felt so completely helpless. Once she was in her bedroom, she settled herself down on her bed and looked around at all the things that she owned. Things that once brought her comfort and feelings of comfort, she no longer felt that way, instead she was conflicted and almost angry that she was in this situation. She began to go through her wardrobe, wondering if there was something she could do, a way to help the people she was beginning to realise existed. Perhaps she could pick out things she didn’t need and donate them, or there was a place she could go to sell these dresses and give the money to help these people. Then again, she wasn’t entirely sure she could help these people with a dress or a few coins. She let a frustrated grumble escape her parted lips and sat down in a little huff.

Her bedroom door opened and her brother stood in the doorway, and her frustrations seemed to float away a little, his presence distracting her for the time being. His soft, melodic voice invited her to join him on a morning walk so the two of them could simply escape the problems of being in this home. Without a moment of thought, she agreed to go with him, grabbing a light cardigan and then making her way out of the home with her brother. Taking his arm, the two of them ventured into the outside world and she couldn’t help but let a small smile creep onto her lips, happy just to feel the sun on her skin. 

“I wanted us to be away from our parents so I could talk a little freer about this.”  
“Georgie, if you’re going to tell me I’m being unreasonable, I don’t want to hear it,” she already sounded defeated.  
“No, that’s not what I was going to say. I think you have a point.”  
“Wait, really?” she looked at him with a little confusion.  
“We’re blessed to have been born into wealth, and the people who aren’t, they don’t get a say in anything. They have their money taken away from them and they have no say in the way it’s used, they don’t even get a chance to better themselves.”  
“Georgie, are you trying to tell me you’re part of this rebellion?”  
He let out a short chuckle. “Hazel, dearest sister, you should know how out of character that would be for me. I don’t have the courage, but I know someone who does.”

Even though she had already had breakfast with her family, part of her wasn’t really happy with eating the food she had there. She had a jonesing for cake and had to stop off in front of a small bakery before she could answer him. She purchased a small pastry that was generously filled with jam, and then a small loaf of bread as well.

“So you have a friend on the inside?” she asked curiously.  
“Do you remember Harold?”  
“How could I forget him?” she said a little coarsely.  
“He told me he’s quite close with Lord Trelaw, the man in charge of the rebellion, so there’s a chance I can ask him for an introduction for you.”  
“You would really do that?”  
“I can tell how much this means to you…”  
“But you won’t be coming?”  
“I’m not as strong as you are, I can’t join this battle with you.”  
“Georgie, you’re stronger than you think you are,” she took his hand.  
“I’m glad you think I am, but I really am not.”

As the two of them stood in the busy street, it seemed like there was no one else around, but of course there was. It was a bustling morning in London and everyone was trying to make their lives easier to live by breaking their backs to earn the small coin they got at the end. Hazel started to eat the pastry to herself as she stayed close to her brother’s side, unable to think of something to reply to him, wishing she could build him up to believe in himself. The pastry brought a small smile to her lips, enjoying the small pleasure of the sugar and yet it wasn’t something that all people got to enjoy. There was something bubbling in her stomach that was making her ready to start this journey to make the world a better place by helping Lord Trelaw in any way she could.

“Maybe you’ll get the courage, after all, you and Harold have always been close, perhaps he could bring you out of your comforting home.”  
“You have a lot more confidence in me than I do.”  
“You’re my big brother, of course I’m going to have all the confidence in you.”  
“After you meet Lord Trelaw, you’ll put your confidence in him, instead,” as little sadness rumbled through his voice.  
“I have enough confidence to put it in both of you, don’t worry my sweet brother,” she smiled sweetly at him.

The two of them continued down the street, arm in arm with her burlap sack linked through her other arm, the bread nestled inside of it. Sometimes she understood why her brother felt this way; their parents had spent so much of his life, telling him that he would amount to nothing without the right woman in his life, even though he was only coming up to his twentieth birthday. It pained her to see him this way because she always knew he could be more and he could become anything he wanted, but the words their parents spat in his direction only ever destroyed his confidence and ability to believe in himself. While they tried to break her spirits, she could escape into the word of stories and poems to protect herself from them.

They neared a grand building, one that had recently opened to educate the masses, a library that was filled with books, and yet they seemed to forget that most people in this area couldn’t actually read. The building seemed to taunt the people of the things they could become but would always be unable to achieve. As they drew closer to the building, she could see two small children playing with some of the lose stones from the floor, inventing a game all of their own and she couldn’t help but smile. Those children reminded her a lot of the way her and Georgie had been when they were kids; entertaining themselves while the adults did whatever it was adults did. There were stark differences, she and Georgie could use pearls, golden coins, things of extravagance that these children would never have. When she was a child, they could run off and bother the cooks and gorge on the finest food, or hide amongst the fine silks, ready to jump out and scare whoever came in next.

The children were sickly thin, pale as the chalk they were grasping between their fingers, and that feeling in the pit of her stomach started to burn with anger. There wasn’t much else she could do and so she tried to ease the fire inside, cautiously approaching the children who had been playing. They were startled, their game coming to an abrupt end as they backed away, Hazel tried to calm them by holding her hands up, showing them she was friendly. She knelt before them and smiled caringly, opening the burlap sack and slowly producing the loaf of breading and handing it to the girl who was more comfortable approaching her. She couldn’t stop but smile brightly at them before standing back to her feet and letting them rush off with their food to enjoy with their family.


End file.
